The Switch
by Moonsp1r1t
Summary: When the Animus malfunctions, Desmond is sent back to Jerusalem in 1191, and Altaïr is sent to Abstergo Industries in the year 2012. Both assassins have to deal with different obstacles, such as the people they encounter and language barriers.
1. Chapter 1

**Desmond's POV:**

I awoke with a start, my bizarre dreams fading into oblivion. At first I was not aware of what had awoken me until I could hear the muffled voices of two people arguing outside of the room in which I was currently being held by Abstergo Industries while they searched my ancestor's DNA for whatever it is that they needed.

I figured that the two arguing voices belonged to Lucy Stillman and Warren Vidic, the only two people I had really interacted with since my kidnapping. I didn't think the people in the Animus really counted as they had been dead for, I did some quick math, about eight hundred years.

The two voices were raised, as if they were yelling at each other, but they were muffled by the metal walls of my room. Silently, I crept towards the door and pressed my ear against it in hopes of better hearing their argument. I could at least make out most of their conversation, and what I couldn't, I could fill in fairly easily.

"- not safe!" Lucy was saying, "I don't think we should risk it!"

"We're on a schedule, Miss Stillman!" Vidic reminded her.

"There were too many glitches in the last session! We shouldn't risk it! If something goes wrong, it could mentally _destroy_ Desmond, or worse-"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." Vidic snarled, "We're running out of time! I am going to put him in today, and that is _final._"

I sighed and shrank back from the door as if I had been burned. I flopped back onto "my" bed, staring back at the ceiling once more, until Doctor Vidic stomped in seconds later, looking disgruntled. I sat up and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Lets get to work, Mr. Miles." he said with the air of a substitute teacher.

"Whatever you say, doc." I answered, rolling my eyes and sliding my legs off of the bed.

Vidic turned curtly and walked out of the room brusquely. I sighed and followed him, greeting the blonde woman with a clipboard clutched to her chest as I passed by.

"G'morning, Lucy." I said tiredly.

Lucy nodded in response, looking stressed. She scurried over to her laptop which sat next to the Animus. Vidic stood with his back to us, his hands folded behind his back as he looked out of the enormous windows dominating the back wall, at the storm clouds outside.

"You know what to do, Mr. Miles." said the doctor, almost lazily.

I mentally groaned and sat down on the cold, hard, metal machine that I had been forced into the last several days. A small jolt of electricity shot down my spine from the machine, which I was used to by now, and my muscles involuntarily relaxed. From my left I could hear Lucy typing rapidly on her laptop, her long, pale fingers flying over the keyboard as she typed in code, most likely. The clear HUD screen slid over my eyes, and another jolt of electricity coursed through me, and I slid into unconsciousness, only to awaken again as one of my ancestors...

_Altaïr dropped into the Assassin Bureau in Jerusalem, dragging me along in tow with him. I was observing his actions, feeling his emotions, hearing his thoughts; I had no say in what this man to whom I'm apparently related did or said. I was merely along for the ride._

_Altaïr strode into the office area of the Bureau to speak to the Rafiq there about starting his mission; he was to assassinate a man called Majd Addin. I watched as my ancestor began to argue with the one-armed man behind the counter, Malik. The two glared at each other and made snide remarks that I wasn't really paying attention to until Malik finally gave Altaïr the information he required to begin his mission before Altaïr nodded his thanks, much to Malik's surprise I'm sure, and left. Altaïr climbed out of the Bureau on the wall, and headed for a near by tower to survey the area that Malik suggested..._

**Lucy's POV:**

I stared down at the laptop screen as Altaïr and Desmond walked down the over-crowded street of Jerusalem, pushing people out of the way as they went, making their way to an Informant.

"This isn't good." I mumbled, disgruntled. Then I added, a little louder, "We need to take him out."

"We can leave him in for another couple of hours." said Vidic.

I scowled down at the screen, where Altaïr had killed the people needed and returned to the Informant. The Informant told the assassin the information he required. Altaïr did not thank the Informant, and instead just headed back to the Bureau, having collected all of the information he needed. The ancient assassin briefly interacted with the man in charge of the Bureau, getting permission for his kill and collecting the feather.

I looked away as Altaïr leaped from rooftop to rooftop, heading for where he knew his target to be. My eyes fell on Desmond, who's fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes scrunched shut with movement shifting rapidly below the lids, the rise and fall of his chest barely noticeable.

"This isn't safe." I repeated, "We need to get him out, and _soon_."

"He'll be fine, Miss Stillman." said Vidic, a note of warning in voice now, "Do not take him out of the Animus."

On screen, Altaïr killed his target, and fled back to the Bureau, with what seemed like the entire city guard following in suit. He broke their visual on him and hid in a rooftop garden near the Bureau. All I noticed, however, was the sheer amount of glitches surrounding the assassin.

"We need to get him out _now!_" I hissed, whipping around to glare at the older man.

"You are not to take him out of there!" Vidic said furiously.

"Too bad!" I snarled, beginning to type in the release code.

Vidic grabbed my arms, freezing me, my fingers hovering above the keys. He stared me dead in the eye and said, "If you take him out of there, you're fired."

I hesitated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of what I was about to do, before reaching out to press enter.

Before I could do anything, however, a great pulse of electricity jolted through the machine before us. The lights all around the room, including the laptop screen and the Animus, glowed too bright, forcing Doctor Vidic and I to shield our eyes. From on the Animus, I could hear Desmond screaming.

* * *

><p>Alright, this is the new series I've been threatening to publish for a long time. I don't really know where I'm planning to go with this, as I am mostly just experimenting with alternating points of view. It's mostly going to be alternating between Altaïr and Desmond's points of view, but Lucy and maybe Malik will have a couple of chapters.<p>

Please leave me a comment to tell me what you like! Seeing comments lets me know that people are actually reading and liking my work, and will make me want to post more!


	2. Chapter 2

**Lucy's POV:**

The lights flickered and died. The only light came from the enormous windows on the wall behind them, and it was a dull gray, due to the rain. The air smelled faintly of something burning.

For a couple of seconds I stood there, frozen, my arms still wrapped around my face before I disentangled myself and allowed my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. I detected movement behind me and whipped around to see Doctor Vidic rubbing his eyes in an almost childlike fashion. When he was done, he just watched me for a moment or so, as if he was expecting something.

"I told you." I whispered, horror struck, not yet knowing the severity of what had happened, "I told you we should have gotten him out."

"I am willing to bet that the electrical surge shorted power to the entire floor, at least." he said at last, "Check on the subject to see if he is still alive. I am going to get a couple of people to get the power back on. I will be back."

Vidic turned and exited the room. I scowled at his retreating back before coming to my senses and crossing to the other side of the Animus, as the clear HUD slid back into the machine. I grabbed Desmond's wrist in search of a pulse, and I could feel one very faintly. Still holding his wrist, I leaned over and pressed my ear against his chest where I could hear his heartbeat and feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The lights flickered on, probably as a result of Vidic getting a couple of people to start up the backup generator or fixing the power grid, and I barely took notice that Desmond's skin seemed darker than normal, and his hair was a lighter shade of brown, rather than its usual almost black color. I was so relieved that he was still alive that these observations barely registered.

At least, they didn't, until his left hand closed around my wrist, and I noticed that it was missing its ring finger. My breath caught in my throat as my head slowly turned towards his head, and I stared at his face. His eyes snapped open and met mine, but they were not Desmond's dark brown. Rather, they were a deep gold.

This wasn't Desmond. This was someone else. A face I recognized. Not Desmond, but someone I recognized nonetheless. I was staring into the face of someone I have only seen on the screen of my laptop. I was staring into the face of someone who should not be here. I was staring into the face of someone who should be dead.

I was staring into the face of Altaïr lbn-La'Ahad.

**Altaïr's POV:**

Darkness. There was darkness all around me. The last thing I could remember was the murder of Majd Addin and heading back to the Bureau, where I briefly spoke to Malik before heading to the area under the wooden lattice to rest.

As I slowly swam into consciousness, I became aware of two voices speaking in what sounded like English, the language of the crusaders, but I wasn't sure, for the dialect was unfamiliar to me. Upon listening closer, I could identify a woman's voice and a man's. However, my mind was too groggy and my knowledge of English too limited, so I couldn't decipher what they were saying. Malik, on the other hand, made sure he was fluent in every single language our superiors made us study, and was sure to rub this fact into my face the next time I spoke to him.

The man's voice ceased, and I heard footsteps leaving the room. Shortly afterwards, I felt someone grab my wrist and then press their head to my chest. I figured that it was the woman. I wanted her to stop, to go away. I wanted to jump to my feet and grab a weapon, and interrogate this woman on how she had gotten into the Bureau, but my limbs were still stiff and they didn't seem to be obeying my commands.

However, eventually, I managed to reach up and grab the woman's wrist. My eyes snapped open, and met with her wide, blue eyes that were slowly morphing into realization and shock as her fine, yellow eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

I suddenly became hyper aware that everything around me was wrong. I was not in the Bureau. I seemed to be laying on something cold and hard. Everything around me seemed too... shiny. There were lights hanging from the ceiling that seemed too white to come from fire. This was not the Assassin Bureau. I doubted that I was even in Jerusalem anymore.

I sat bolt upright and twisted the woman's wrist backwards. The woman released a small cry of pain and jumped back when I released her, tugging up my hood. I flung myself off of the metal table-like thing I had woken up on and ran, patting myself down for any weapons and finding none. Instead of my usual robes and leather I appeared to be wearing some kind of blue pants, a white robe that went down to my waist with a metal thing going down the middle, and black and white shoes with a strange, almost bouncy substance on the bottom.

I vaulted over another table, and finally skidding to a halt before an enormous glass window. I momentarily considered trying to crash through the glass to escape- maybe I could grab the edge of another building across and see if I could figure out where I was- but then I realized how far away the other building was, that there were no handholds for me to grab onto even if I could jump that far, and we were already very high in the air, the other building across from me seeming to stretch even higher than where I already was. I looked down, gauging that I would not survive the drop onto the many, metallic, multi-colored beetle-like things bustling about below.

I whipped around, feeling more panicked than ever now, although trying not to let it show on my face. Lacking any sort of _proper_ weapon, I put my fists up and stared at the blonde woman who was still standing by the metal table on which I had woken up, staring at me. She was mouthing silently, and her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, rubbing her wrist where I had twisted it.

"I wouldn't try to jump through that. It's bullet proof." stammered the woman eventually, "And even if you did manage to break through it, it would be quite a fall."

It had been a long time since I had spoken English, and I had only learned enough to interrogate my enemies. "Who are you?" I demanded.

The woman blinked. "Lucy. I'm Lucy." she said slowly, not like I was stupid, but like he was realizing something, "And you are Altaïr."

"How do you know me?" I hissed.

The woman went off saying a bunch of words I did not recognize, such as "DNA," "Desmond," and "Animus."

I stared at her blankly, and her words faltered and she stopped talking as she realized that I didn't really have any idea what she was talking about. She took a deep breath and gathered her wits before putting her hands up in a defensive posture. Still, I did not put my fists down. I did not know who this woman was yet, or if I could trust her.

"Okay." she said finally, "It's okay. I'm a friend, Altaïr. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why should I trust you?" I snarled, my eyes roaming the room in search of an exit and finding none. Instead I found walls on all sides that seemed to be made of metal and lights hanging from the ceiling that seemed to be too white to come from flames.

"I-" the woman, Lucy, I suppose, began.

However, just then, part of the wall opened to my right to reveal an older man who looked about Al Mualim's age, maybe a little younger. He was wearing strange white robes, and he had a gray and white beard and hair. His expression was stern as he looked at the woman, before is eyes flickered over to me. Then he did a double take, his eyes widening as he stared at me.

"Well," he mused, scratching his beard. "This is an interesting development."


	3. Chapter 3

**Desmond's POV:**

My head was pounding; it felt like it would split open. I groaned and reached up with my right hand to rub my temples. My body was slow and sluggish, like I had just woken up from a long nap, or I had just gotten out of the Animus. I assumed the former, as I felt like I was laying on some cushions, guessing that it was just my bed in "my" room. I assumed that I had just went to bed after another session in _that machine_, and that Doctor Vidic would be coming for me any minute.

I sat upright, still without opening my eyes, pushed my hood down, and stretched my arms into the air, yawning hugely. I spread my fingers wide as I stretched, freezing when I heard a quiet _shunk_.

My eyes snapped open, and my eyes were assaulted with orange light. I blinked several times, allowing my eyes to focus. I realized with a jolt that I was in the Jerusalem Assassin Bureau, and that I had been resting on the cushions in the corner of the small, covered courtyard opposite the fountain. My eyes drifted upwards to find the vine-entangled wooden lattice. I looked at my arms above me to see that on my left hand I was wearing a gauntlet with an extended hidden blade.

_Am I still in the Animus?_ I wondered, _And all of Altaïr's actions so far have just matched mine? I suppose that would explain my pounding headache._

I looked down at my body to see that I was indeed wearing my ancestor's robes. I poked at them experimentally to see if I could, and I realized that this seemed much to vivid to be in the Animus. Everything seemed so much more acute than it usually did, from the chatter of the voices of the people of Jerusalem outside, the smell of dust and sandalwood incense, the rustling of paper from within the Bureau, even the texture of the sand pressed against my hand. It all seemed so much more... real.

I frowned. _Is this a dream?_

I reached my left hand out in front of me, stretching my fingers wide once more, allowing the hidden blade to slide out again. My ring finger was still there, confirming what I already suspected; that I was me, and not in fact Altaïr.

_So that rules out the Animus. Does that mean I'm dreaming?_

I pulled my right hand out from behind me and pressed the tip of the hidden blade to it, although not hard enough to do any actual damage. I drew the blade away and it slid back into it's sheath beneath the gauntlet as I stared at the small bead of blood that was forming where I had pressed the blade, and the trickle as it ran down my palm.

"Fuck." I muttered out loud.

I couldn't recall getting hurt before in a dream, so that ruled out that theory. _Which means... Where the fuck am I? Is this some sort of test from Abstergo?_

From the other room, I could hear someone speak in what I guessed was Arabic, because I could only pick up a few words such as Altaïr's name, "Masyaf," and "lazy."

I froze and cursed under my breath as I scrambled to my feet. _Malik._

Sure enough, just as I had stood up, the one-armed Rafiq pushed his way into the covered courtyard, his face already in that irritated expression he saved just for Altaïr, his mouth open for some reprimand or another, when he spotted me. Malik froze, his eyes widening.

Like a flash, the man attacked me. He knocked me against the wall and pressed a short knife that he had evidentially hidden beneath his robes against my throat. He glared me right in the eye, a murderous gleam in his, as he shouted at me furiously in Arabic.

"I- I don't understand you!" I stammered. I had no idea what was going on anymore. The appearance of Malik threw any ideas I _might_ of had of what was going on out of the window.

The Rafiq watched me carefully for a moment before he spoke again in accented English, "Who are you!? How did you find this place!? Why are you wearing Altaïr's robes?"

I blinked in surprise. "You know English?"

"Answer my questions or pay the price." Malik hissed, "Do not underestimate me."

"My name is Desmond Miles." I said quickly, "And I'm, um, a friend of Altaïr's."

"Liar." Malik growled, pressing his knife into my throat, its blade now digging into my flesh, "That _bastard_ has no friends."

"I- I know!" I said wildly, "Well, I just thought it sounded more reasonable than the truth."

"Try me."

"I'm Altaïr's decedent." I said slowly, watching for Malik's reaction.

The Rafiq's eyes flashed confusion for a moment, but his glare did not waver in the slightest. His eyes narrowed as he held my gaze.

"I-I know it sounds crazy," I began. "But it's the truth. I- I'm- Last time I checked it was 2012."

"2012?" Malik repeated doubtfully.

"Yes!"

I went off, explaining everything to him, from growing up on the Farm, to getting kidnapped by Abstergo, all the way to "the present," with Abstergo forcing me to go through Altaïr's memories. Maybe it was the knife against my throat that made my brain short-circuit so that I couldn't think of a reasonable lie fast enough. Maybe it was the fact that I never thought I would be in this situation, trying to explain something that I don't know anything about, because a man in a white lab coat wouldn't explain anything to me, to an angry one-armed man from the twelfth century. Maybe it was the fact that lying to Malik would be fatal, and maybe it was the fact that I was a terrible liar.

So, yes, I told him the truth. Or at least the abridged version of it.

"I know everything that's happened from when Altaïr killed that old man in Solomon's Temple to, um, now." I babbled.

Malik subconsciously pressed his blade harder into my throat at the mention of Solomon's Temple, a thin cut appearing with small beads of blood, but there was a gleam in his eyes that I did not quite understand. His fingers flexed on the blade, and he moved it about a centimeter above my skin so that it wasn't digging into my flesh any more, at least.

"I know what's going to happen in the future!" I went on, knowing that there was probably going to be consequences for this, like there always are in movies that involve time travel, "You are living in the middle of the third of nine crusades! Uh, in the thirteen hundreds a disease will kill most of the population of Europe! In the fourteen hundreds two more continents are discovered, and-"

"Enough!" Malik snarled. To my surprise, he stepped back and sheathed his blade. I stared at him, not knowing what he was going to do.

Malik studied me, his one hand running through his hair as he said, "What your saying is crazy. It's impossible-"

"I know-" I interrupted.

"But you seem to be telling the truth." Malik went on, "At the very least you seem to believe what you are saying."

"You- you believe me?" I blurted.

Malik fixed me with a cold stare. "Yes," he said eventually. "I could tell if you were lying. And what you're saying has a ring of truth to it, even if it does sound impossible." He paused and shuffled his feet in what could almost be in an embarrassed way, "Besides, you knew that the innocent Altaïr killed was an old man. I didn't tell anyone anything about the innocent, and Altaïr isn't much of one for detail.

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding and looked down at my feet. I slumped against the wall, allowing my body to relax now that I knew the Rafiq wasn't going to immediately kill me.

"I will allow you to stay in my Bureau until you can figure out how to fix your... Problem." Malik continued, pausing momentarily to search for the right word.

My head jerked up, and I looked at the man in surprise. "What? Really?"

"Don't get too comfortable. I am allowing you to stay here temporarily, do you understand?" Malik said, a note of warning in his voice as I nodded vigorously, "However, you must stay out of my way, and you are to be hidden when any other assassins come here."

"Got it." I mumbled.

Malik gave me a curious look, not quite understanding what I "got," before adding, "And you can't wear those robes. Those are the robes of a Master Assassin, which you are clearly not. To wear those robes, you need to earn them."

I glanced down at Altaïr's robes and then back at Malik. "Well, what do you expect me to wear? It's not like I actually had time to pack before-"

"I may have something in the back." Malik sniffed disdainfully, as if my presence was one of the worst things that could have happened to him, "Follow me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Altaïr's POV:**

Lucy and the man got into a swift conversation, most of which I could not understand. They gestured towards me and glanced at me often as they spoke to one another. I kept hearing that word that Lucy had mentioned before. _Desmond._ What is a Desmond? Or who is... he, I assumed. I wanted one of them to explain, but then again I didn't know if I could trust them yet, so I remained silent.

"Put your fists down, boy." said the man eventually, turning towards me after several minutes of talking, "No one is going to hurt you."

"No." I said flatly.

The man approached me, his hands up in a defensive posture to show that he was not going to immediately attack me, and walked around me slowly in a circle. I stared at him apprehensively as he did so. Suddenly, without warning, he reached out and pulled my hood down. I tried to punch him, but his head jerked back, clearly anticipating my attempted blow. He leaned forward towards my face unpleasantly, taking the opportunity with my fists lowered momentarily, drinking in my appearance.

"_Fascinating._" said the man, "They could be twins! Almost a thousand years of genetic dilution and... Remarkable."

I scowled at him, resisting the urge to try to punch him again, until he took a step back. I continued to glower at everyone in the room, tugging my hood back up as Lucy said, "Altaïr, this is Dr. Warren Vidic."

"A thousand years?" I repeated, looking back and forth between the two people.

Lucy and Dr. Vidic exchanged a glance. There was a tense silence for a moment or so before Lucy broke it. "Altaïr, what's the last thing you remember?"

My frown deepened, trying to form the limited English I knew into a coherent sentence. "My murder of Majd Addin."

"And what year was it?" Lucy asked carefully, as if delivering some very bad news to someone, or talking to a wounded animal she was about to put down.

"1191." I said, wondering what she was getting at.

"Altaïr, it's 2012." Lucy said gently.

I stared at her, the world seeming to fall away from my feet. _That's not right. They have to be wrong. It can't be 2012. They're lying to me._ I looked around the room. I looked at the too shiny metallic walls, at the lights hanging from the ceiling that did not come from fire or any sort of flame. A woman working along side a man, and the table I woke up upon glowing faintly, it's light not seeming to come from fire either. iIt's true, then./i I realized. _They may not be telling me the exact truth of the year, but I'm_ definitely _not in 1191 any more. I'm... I'm... in the future._

I thought of all the people I've encountered in my lifetime. Malik. Abbas. Rauf. Al Mualim. _Dead. All of them. For centuries._

Something must have shown on my face, because Lucy hurried on, "Don't worry, we're going to figure this out. We're going to put you back in your proper time, and we're going to get Desmond back here."

"And just how are you going to do that, Miss Stillman?" Vidic asked, sneering slightly.

I shook my head out of my daze. "Desmond?" I said.

"Desmond Miles." Lucy said slowly, as if trying to figure out how to phrase something, "Desmond is your descendant."

"Impossible." I blurted, "I do not have children."

"Not yet." Vidic said, impatiently.

I stared at him doubtfully. I had already made the decision to never get married or have children. The life of an assassin is dangerous, and I couldn't put my family through what I went through when I was eleven when my father died. Thus, I don't have descendants. Won't have descendants. Whatever.

"The point is we need our subject back, and it is highly likely that you will not be much use to us at this point in time." Vidic continued.

Sensing danger, I put my fists back up and eased my body into combat position. I glared at him and Lucy, silently daring them to try to do something to me. _I'll bet I can take them both easily. Neither of them look that strong._

"_Relax._" Vidic sniffed, "We're not going to do anything to you. It's just that your DNA does not have the required memory. You can be useful in other ways, however."

"How?" I asked wearily, still not letting my guard down.

"We could study you." said Vidic frankly, "And besides, we probably need you to get Desmond back." he added with a sniff.

I lowered my hands once more, still weary, ready to have them up again at a moments notice.

"Miss Stillman, why don't you take... Mr. lbn-La'Ahad to Mr. Miles' room. We can deal with this again in the morning. I have work to do to prepare for tomorrow. Then you can find some way to fix the Animus."

"Fine." Lucy said, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the older man exit the room before turning towards me again and saying, a note of sympathy in her voice, "This all must be very frightening to you."

"I'm not afraid." I growled, crossing my arms over my chest to mimic her.

"Of course not." Lucy sighed.

She led me to a closed metal door across the room. I watched her as she poked at a black rectangular thing next to it, and the door was sucked into the wall next to it, causing me to jump back in surprise. I stared at it in astonishment. Lucy gestured for me to go inside. Experimentally I activated my Eagle Vision and looked at her to see her glowing blue. I sighed and relented, shuffling into the room awkwardly, to see the walls glowing red, apparently painted on with what looked like blood. The walls were covered in symbols that I did not recognize not understand.

"Someone will come up to bring you food later." said the blue shape that was Lucy before the door returned from inside the wall, shutting me inside.

I turned off my Eagle Vision and inspected the room. The symbols disappeared, and I looked at the gray bed, the desk, and the small doorway that lead to another tiny room that I did not understand the purpose of, but everything inside seemed to summon water. Maybe I would ask someone about it later, once I knew if I could trust these people. Lucy, clearly, was at least somewhat trustworthy. I could tell that she won't attack me immediately, at least.

I went over to the gray bed and flopped down onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I shifted uncomfortably for a moment or so, before deciding that it was futile, and that this wouldn't ever be even _close_ comfort-wise to the pile of cushions in Jerusalem's Assassin Bureau. Besides, it made strange creaking sounds whenever I moved.

I'm hit with a sudden and unexpected pang of longing. _I don't want to be here. I need to get back. Even if it means going back to being disgraced. Even if it means having to endure what the other assassins say about me when they think I'm out of ear-shot. Even if it means enduring Malik's criticism and snide remarks. Even if I am never allowed to lift a blade again. I want to go home._

For the first time in decades, I was afraid.

I am awakened to the sound of footsteps, fairly close. At first I hope that the events of yesterday were just some sort of terrible dream, but when I open my eyes, I find myself on that uncomfortable bed and in that bland gray room. I sighed and mumbled a curse in Arabic in frustration, and drape an arm over my eyes.

I sat up suddenly, remembering the sound of footsteps so close. However, as soon as I sat up, I felt something sharp poke my neck, and something cold seep into my body. I felt very groggy again, and I collapsed back on the bed, immobile. My vision went blurry, and the edges of my vision went black. Two dark shapes leaned over me before I lost consciousness completely.

The next thing I knew, my ankles and wrists were bound to a cold, hard, metal table, and all of my clothes had been removed. I screamed obscenities, mostly in Arabic. I could not lift myself up very high, but I could tell that I was alone. I didn't care. I continued to shout, curse, and scream until a man wearing a long white robe, very similar to the one that Dr. Vidic had been wearing yesterday, even though this man was unfamiliar to me.

He had pale skin, and freckles sprayed across his nose. His short hair was a messy, mousy brown, and he looked fairly young, although older than I, so maybe in his early to mid thirties. In his hand was a board with a clip attaching a couple of pieces of too-white paper to it. I shot him a glare that can make grown men shrink away in fear. This man's eyebrows drew together and he bit his lip, but he seemed to know that he was in no danger, as I was strapped to the table.

"Hello, Altaïr. My name is Dr. Dumian Saiarakes."

I swore at him profusely. It was clear that he didn't understand a word I was saying, but judging by his frown, he seemed to get the gist.

"Now, now." he said, "I'm sorry we had to bind your limbs, but Dr. Vidic thought it would be a good idea. He said it was highly likely you... erm, 'wouldn't cooperate.'"

I continued to hiss and spit obscenities at him.

"It is simply routine." Dr. Saiarakes went on, first we are going to take a DNA sample."

"_Nik jedak! Sharmuta!_" I growled, still not caring in the slightest that he did not know what I was saying.

The man pulled out a nettle and poked it into my arm. Before he could draw any blood, I jerked and sent the nettle flying, where it crashed to the floor. Dr. Saiarakes put his hands to his hips and pursed his lips in an almost feminine way. If I hadn't been so angry I probably would have been amused.

"Look, Altaïr, the sooner I get this done the sooner you can be released, and we can focus on getting you back to 1191. Got it?"

I was tempted to continue making his life difficult, but I found the idea of getting home and out of this future of madmen more appealing at the moment, so I allowed the stupid son of a bitch to collect samples of my blood and saliva, measure my body parts, and test me for any signs of skeletal, cardiac, muscular, and mental problems. Most of the words he used I did not recognize, but once again I did not care.


	5. Chapter 5

**Desmond's POV:**

He was driving me crazy. Malik wouldn't let me out if his sight. He seemed convinced that if I slipped away even for a second, I would either break something or alert a Templar of the Bureau's location. It was stupid, really. It's not like I can communicate with anyone anyways, as I did not know French or Arabic. However, the most insulting part was that Malik didn't even try to be subtle about it.

"I'm going to the market." Malik announced on my second day in the Bureau.

I looked up from where I was sitting in the corner, enjoying the coolness of the shade, across the room from where Malik was standing behind his desk. He slid off of his stool and grabbed a basket, strapping it to his back before gesturing for me to get up.

I sighed and stood up, scratching at the rough clothes that I was dressed in. They weren't exactly comfortable, but they fit the time period and weren't too noticeable, so I didn't complain.

"_Maybe you can look for a way out of here._" said a small voice in the back of my mind.

"Where are we going?" I asked, a sudden thought occurring to me, as Malik waited impatiently behind the counter, his hand to his hip and his foot tapping.

"_Hmar kelb tfou._" he said irritably, "To the market. I just said."

"No, I mean how are we going to get out of the Bureau?" _It's not like either of us can actually climb out._

"I have an exit." Malik said shortly, gesturing for me to follow him into a back room.

Pushing the curtain aside, Malik and I entered a small kitchen area. I inspected it, somewhat curious; I had never been in this room before, or at least Altaïr hadn't. Malik rolled his eyes and unlocked the middle door of three, using a key he had tucked beneath his robes.

"What are these rooms?" I asked, gesturing to the other two doors after the middle had swung open to reveal a hallway with the floor sloping downwards.

"None of your business." Malik said shortly.

He grabbed an unlit torch from a sconce on the wall, withdrawing momentarily from the hallway to thrust the torch into my hand while he grabbed a couple of flint stones.

He took the torch back from me and said, "Light this for me, would you?"

I relented and managed to light the torch after a couple of tries. I was feeling pretty good about myself; I had only been able to light fires with matches before. Malik, however, was unimpressed. This was apparent in how he muttered that he could have done it on the first try, if only he had both hands.

Malik lead me through the hall after locking the door to the Bureau behind us. The stone walls danced with our shadows eerily, cast from the torch. We walked in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, neither of us having anything to say to the other.

Eventually we reached another door. Malik put the torch on another sconce on the wall and unlocked it. I followed him out into what looked like a small, abandoned house. We walked towards what I assumed was the front door into the crowded streets of Jerusalem.

"Stay close." Malik growled.

I waded through the crowds after him, gently pushing people out of my way as I tried to keep pace with the one-armed Rafiq. I looked up at the guards armed with bows, leering down at the citizens of the city from atop the roofs of the buildings around me, and I couldn't help but think it would be easier to get to wherever I was going by running across the rooftops, before I remembered that I was not in fact Altaïr, and I was not nearly as agile as he.

Eventually we reached the market. Malik began to barter with a fruit merchant in Arabic, and I stood a little off to the side, next to an alleyway. My eyes wandered around my surroundings, lingering on the pile of hay that was in the alley before snapping forward, drawn to some sort of commotion ahead of me. Almost nonchalantly, his back still turned, I saw Malik's hand move beneath his outer robe, probably to close around the handle of his knife.

A man wearing the clothes of an Informant was pushing his way frantically through the crowd. I had spent long enough as Altaïr to guess that he was probably trying to escape some guards. Once he got close, I grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the hay in the alley. He nodded and dove inside, the hay enveloping him in seconds. Moments later a group of about six guards came into view.

"That way!" I called out to them, pointing frantically in the opposite direction from where the Informant laid, hidden, "He went that way!"

The guards may not have understood what I was saying, but they certainly understood my gestures, so they ran in the direction I was pointing, and were soon out of sight. Malik relaxed his grip on his knife, and continued to barter with the merchant.

After a couple of minutes, I said to the haystack, "You can come out, now. It's safe."

The Informant clambered awkwardly out of the pile of hay. He dusted himself off and began to jibber at me in Arabic. I stared at him blankly as Malik finished his transaction with the fruit merchant and said something to him. The Informant looked confused before nodding.

"Thank you for your help." said the Informant slowly, "Why?"

I shrugged. "Instinct...?"

"Are you of the brotherhood?" he asked, "You seem to know Master Malik, but..." he trailed off, peering at my face. "And you look very similar to Master Alta-"

Malik interrupted, saying something in Arabic once more, his face still drawn in a frown. The Informant nodded before speaking again.

"I must go." he said awkwardly, before turning tail and running back into the alleyway, leaping over the pile of hay, and whipping around a corner, out of sight.

"I only have a couple more things to buy before we head back." Malik said, watching me.

I studied him, realizing that there was something different. Not respect. Not trust. It was closer to... begrudging acknowledgement. He finally, _finally_ seemed to get that I wasn't going to compromise the brotherhood. Maybe now I'll actually be able to focus on getting home, now, instead of having to worry about Malik slitting my throat in my sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Altaïr's POV:**

Once they were finished with the "medical procedure" I was sent back to the room on which I woke up yesterday. Judging by the light filtering in through the window (not the white lights hanging from the ceiling. I can tell the difference) it was still fairly early. I guessed that it was around... five? Six? It didn't matter, as I mostly ended up standing in the corner, scowling. That in of itself wasn't unusual. However, this time, as a result of the "tests" from earlier that morning, I felt violated; what does it matter how long my legs are? Who cares about my "body mass index?" What the hell is "Oh positive" blood?

After a few minutes that woman from yesterday came in... Lacey? No, Lucy. She looked tired and slightly frazzled, a board with various papers attached to it clasped in her hand. She crossed the room and crouched down next to the metal table from yesterday. She seemed to fiddle with it for a moment before the side opened and she began to prod and poke at the multi-colored strings inside.

I watched her for several minutes before deciding to make my presence known. I strode over to her, bending over slightly to watch her pale fingers grasp the wires and check them for any blemishes.

"What are you doing?" I asked gruffly.

Lucy gave a small gasp of surprise, her head jerking up and banging against the thing. Her hand snapped up to rub at it before she crawled out from within the machine.

"Ouch... Oh, hello... Altaïr." she said, still rubbing the back of her head, "Sorry, I didn't realize you were up..."

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

Her eyes shot to the side towards the other room. She pursed her lips slightly, apparently in mild confusion. "How did you get out of your room?"

"They let me out after some... 'medical tests.'" I admitted reluctantly.

Lucy's frown deepened. "Vidic..." she growled, "I was worried he would do something like this. He said he managed to convince them to extend our deadline until we could get Desmond back, so long they could study you. I'm going to have to have a word with him..."

I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised at her boldness. _She is a woman. Does she not know her place?_

"Anyways," Lucy continued, looking back down at the machine. "I'm trying to figure out how to fix the Animus, to get you back to 1191 and Desmond back here. But there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the wiring, and I still don't know what happened to him..."

"Were you and this 'Desmond' close?" I asked.

Lucy looked back up at me, her pale cheeks reddening. "No, of course not. He's just... the test subject here."

"What does that make me?" I asked.

"I guess..." she hesitated, deciding. "I guess you would be a test subject, too, as it's your memories that Desmond is going through."

"And where is 'here?'" I said.

"Abstergo Industries headquarters." Lucy said, seemingly almost automatically, "Or at least one of them..." she added in an afterthought.

"Where is that?"

Lucy hesitated, apparently not entirely sure how much to give away. I scowled down at her, and she bit her lip before saying, "Italy."

I figured that was as good as it was going to get. Personally, I had never been to Italy, but I knew where it was in relation to Masyaf, as was part of our training as Novices, and as soon as I could figure out how to escape this hellish place, then I could make my way home and see how much time has passed for myself.

"If we're in Italy, why are you speaking English?" I challenged. Honestly, Italian was a language I was much more comfortable with.

"Because I'm originally from South Dakota." she admitted reluctantly.

I stared at her blankly, waiting for her to continue. The words she used were unfamiliar to me, or did not make sense in that context. _Was 'South Dakota' some new county formed over the years, or something?_

Lucy raised an eyebrow at me before comprehension dawned on her face. "That's right; you don't know."

I waited, my arms folded across my chest.

"After your time, two more continents were discovered." Lucy began, "On the northern one, called North America, there is a country called the United States. That's where I'm from. South Dakota is just one of the states."

I stared at her doubtfully. _How can there just be two more continents? And why is it called south, if it's in the north?_ Several more questions were bubbling in my mind, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.

"Are you hungry?" Lucy asked suddenly.

"No." I lied.

In fact I was very hungry, but I wouldn't eat anything these bastards gave me. Allah knows it's going to be poisoned. I could easily picture them slipping something into my food or drink. It was actually one of the first things we learned as Novices. In fact, I could still hear Al Mualim's voice saying blatantly, "_Never_ accept food or drink from the enemy."

Lucy pursed her lips slightly. "I'll have someone bring something up, just in case."

She pulled a little black, rectangular object out of her pocket. She poked at it for a couple of moments before placing it back in her pocket and crouching back down to crawl back into the machine. I stood passively next to her, my arms still crossed over my chest. A few minutes later a man wearing a strange white uniform came in holding a plate of some kind of meat and weird, tiny green and yellow vegetables I could not recognize.

"Here you are, Lucy." said the man gruffly, placing the platter on the ground next to her, appearing not to take any notice of me.

"Thanks, Brutus." came Lucy's muffled voice from within the machine.

With a nod, Brutus left. I scowled after him and glared at the plate of food. I stared at it for a while, the smell of the meat and vegetables making mouth water. But I was steadfast; I refused to eat it. I had been poisoned before, and it was not a pleasant feeling. I had mostly spent my recovery vomiting my guts out onto the floor, my head pounding terribly, teenage Malik's hand warm on my back while my stomach heaved while he told me what a moron I was...

"It's not poisoned." Lucy said with a sigh, still in the bowels of the machine, jerking my head out of my memories, "I told them it was for me, because I've seen the food that they give the test subjects, and it looks gross. And they wouldn't try to poison me." she added.

Eventually my willpower crumbled; I had not eaten for a couple of days before this happened, lacking the money to buy food, the time to pickpocket, and the humility to ask Malik for any. I hesitantly sat down next to the plate, and picked up the unfamiliar four-pronged utensil. I stabbed one of the pieces of already cut meat. I stared at it apprehensively, inhaling deeply as if I could possibly smell the poison in the meat. I bit into it carefully, feeling the juice excrete into my mouth, tasting it for anything suspicious. I popped the piece of meat fully into my mouth, and chewed it slowly, still not tasting anything out of the ordinary.

"... Fine." I grumbled.

I shifted so that I was sitting more comfortably on the ground, and ate the rest of my food in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Desmond's POV:**

By my third day in the Bureau, Malik and I had fallen into an easy routine of waking up, having breakfast, exploring the city of Jerusalem until lunch time, heading back to the Bureau, eating, and having Malik interrogate me on what the future was like and what scientific breakthroughs they have made, or will make in the future.

Ever since I saved that Informant, the ex-assassin had been much more lenient with me leaving the Bureau. As a result, I spent my mornings looking for any signs of anything out of the ordinary. Anyone with clothing not from this time period, anyone with nucleotides floating around their head, any signs that I was still in some form of contact with the present (or future), but each morning I would find nothing. Dejected, I would head back to the Bureau with the intent of searching more the next day.

"So there are two more continents on Earth?" Malik asked over dinner my third day in the dinner. He was leaning over a map of Jerusalem's Poor District, occasionally turning away to take a bite of his food. I sat near by, wolfing down my food, pausing only when Malik asked me a direct question.

I held a finger up, swallowed my mouthful of rice, and said, "Yes, and it revolves around the sun."

"Fascinating." Malik said slowly, scratching his goatee, "And the wanderers-"

"Planets." I corrected tiredly. We had already talked about this, and to be honest, I found it a bit tiresome. I wasn't particularly interested in the topic.

"Right. They rotate around the sun too?"

"Yes. And we're on a planet too." I replied, taking another bite of my food.

I looked up to see Malik writing down what we were saying, I assumed, on a piece of parchment in Arabic. My eyes widened and I leaped to my feet, a feeling of panic settling over me. I snatched the piece of paper away from him, making Malik's ink pot rattle and his paperweight clatter to the floor. He released a fluent curse in Arabic, giving me a glare that could have burned a hole in my head. I knew that if I were within reach, he would have punched me.

"What in the name of _Allah_ do you think you're doing!?" he hissed.

"I- Well-" I spluttered, "This stuff won't be discovered for several hundred years yet, and I don't want to mess anything up if I really _did_ travel back in time, and the Animus isn't just malfunctioning big time."

Malik peered at me, apparently not completely understanding what I was saying, but he seemed to grasp enough of the context of what I was saying because he nodded.

"I... suppose that sort of makes sense." he admitted, almost reluctantly.

"Good." I said with a huff, "'cause I'm not even sure that made sense to me."

Malik looked at me quizzically for a moment before there was a quiet thud to indicate that someone was entering the Bureau. Malik and I exchanged a glance, and I nodded. I ran behind the counter, and headed into one of the rooms, as we had planned. I pressed myself against the wall, leaning forward slightly to hear Malik speaking smoothly in Arabic to someone. I caught the standard greeting of the brotherhood, "Safety and peace," but I could not understand too much else. I figured that I had picked it up through the Animus somehow.

My head jerked up when I heard Altaïr's name. I leaned forward a little more. _Are they talking about me? Or, um, him?_ I froze when I recognized the words "see him."

"_Shit!_" I cursed silently.

I still didn't know what they were saying, but I could guess. The assassin was from Masyaf looking for confirmation that Altaïr really iwas/i injured in the back as Malik had said he was. It made me wonder if the Master Assassin had tried pulling something like this when he was younger, feigning injury or illness to avoid going back to Masyaf immediately, but I don't see why. I also knew that Malik couldn't deny the assassin's request without raising a suspicion. I doubted the rest of the assassins would believe my story as easily as Malik. Hell, I was surprised the Rafiq accepted my story as easily as he did.

I did some quick thinking. I dove into one of the three beds in the room that Malik told me was for any injured assassins in the Bureau. I faced away from the door an pulled the blanket over my shoulders.

From behind me I could hear Malik and the assassin enter the room. I released a quiet groan and curled into "my" covers a little more. Malik released a tiny sigh of relief that the other assassin seemed to miss. The two exited and continued to talk with one another in Arabic.

"Desmond." Malik called once the other had left.

I threw the blankets off of me and walked out of the back of the Bureau, feeling pretty pleased with myself for managing to think a way out of that situation. Malik scowled at me.

"Don't look too pleased with yourself." he snapped, "You're lucky Rajab is an idiot. If he looked any closer, he would have seen that you weren't Altaïr."

"Rajab?" I repeated.

That name sounded somewhat familiar. I frowned, trying to remember where I heard that name before, before remembering from Altaïr's thoughts that Rajab was the name of one of the Novices in Kadar's training group. Oops. Of course Malik would know who he is. I decided to change the subject, as I could recall that if Malik was reminded of his younger, he would get violent. I learned this from time in the Animus as Altaïr, having to dodge several ink pots and the occasional throwing knife.

"Um, so did I tell you that the Earth is round?" I said quickly.

* * *

><p>So I'll admit it, this is mostly just a filler story. I honestly wasn't too happy with this chapter, but I wanted to show that Desmond and Malik were getting more comfortable with each other, and I wanted to show that Desmond has picked up some stuff from Altaïr in the Animus, such as a couple of phrases in Arabic, and knowledge of the other residents of Masyaf. Don't worry, though, the next chapter will be more exciting.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Altaïr's POV:**

I by my fifth day in the future, I had adequately explored everything that I had access to, and I had found no way to escape. I was bored, so I spent my time repeatedly doing wall runs, even though there was nothing to grab onto. I'm sure I was distracting Lucy, who was still doing her endless work with that machine.

I ran part way up the wall, sprang off backwards, and landed on the ground to do a roll. Just because I was in the future didn't mean that I could get lazy, or out of practice. This is what I was doing when that old man, Doctor Vidic, came in with two men wearing a strange kind of black armor. The two men approached me, and Vidic stood a little off to the side, his arms folded behind his back. I immediately tensed for a fight; mentally, I planned to do a wall run, land on one of the men, break his neck, and use the body as a shield while the other attacked until I got an opening to break his neck. The two men seemed to sense this, and pulled out two strange metal things and pointed them at my head. I froze, not knowing what these things were, but I could feel in my gut that they were weapons.

"What's going on?" Lucy demanded from across the room.

Vidic ignored her. "These weapons are called guns, Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad. If you do not follow my orders, they will send a piece of metal flying straight into your head. Do you understand?"

I stared at the 'gun' and found myself wondering how it worked. I tucked this thought away for later, and nodded slowly.

"Can I ask what is going on here?" Lucy asked.

"We are taking Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad away for a couple of tests." Vidic said shortly, "And I have these gentlemen along for my protection."

"What kind of tests?" I said slowly.

"Now, now, it's nothing like you think. I have a theory that we don't actually need Mr. Miles back. Just follow us."

I scowled at them, my arms crossed over my chest. I nodded reluctantly. From across the room, I could see Lucy purse her lips in disapproval. She opened her mouth to say something, but Vidic cut her off.

"You will stay here, Miss Stillman, and continue working on the Animus." he said shortly.

The four of us exited the room and began to walk down the long, seemingly endless hallway, the walls still that strange metal substance. Vidic was in the lead, and one of the guards was walking next to me, his gun pressed against my temple. The second walked behind me, his gun pressed against my spine.

I tried to keep track of all the twists and turns of the hallway automatically, but I eventually lost track. I think they anticipated what I was doing, so they looped back a couple of times. Either that, or every damn door looked exactly the same, and these people were just as lost as I felt.

Eventually we entered another room very similar to the one we left, accept it was slightly smaller and there were no other doors. There weren't even any windows; the walls were bare and gray. The two guards waited outside, one standing on either side of the door as Vidic and I entered. I stared at him reproachfully, wondering what he was planning.

"If you would kindly get onto the Animus." he said, heading over to a desk and beginning to tap at the buttons on that weird board.

"Why?" I growled.

Vidic sighed, "You assassins are all the same. Just do it or I'll induce a permanent coma, and you'll never get back home. I had to make a similar threat to your descendant, Mr. Miles, and he made the correct decision."

I scowled but relented. The idea of getting back home was more appealing at the moment than perusing conflict. I sat down on the machine. After a couple of seconds a clear thing slid out from the machine. I panicked and reflexively tried to sit up, but I only ended up bumping my forehead against the object. I released a quiet curse. Humiliation colored my cheeks ever so slightly; I knew that if Malik were here, he would never let me hear the end of it.

"Sit still." Vidic snarled.

I was about to tell him to kiss my ass in Arabic. Before the sentence could escape my lips, the world around me slipped away like fluid...

The next thing I knew I was back in my normal Master Assassin robes. I nearly sighed in relief before I saw where I was. The world around me was a light blue, and I was surrounded by a dense, marble-white fog. A strange, eerie light seemed to be shining through it, though it did not do anything for visibility. I chose a random direction and began to walk, searching for a way out, or any change in the world around me.

Soon I could hear voices. They spoke in whispers and echoed slightly, and seemed to come from all sides of me. Some of the voices I recognized, some of them I didn't. I couldn't understand what any of them were saying.

I could hear Al Mualim. I could hear Abbas and Rauf. I could hear Malik and Kadar. I could hear a woman speaking in a teasing tone of voice. I could hear the voices of two children, little boys perhaps, arguing over something. I could hear the guards that I have killed. I could hear Robert de Sable. I could hear the voices of long forgotten targets.

Panic consumed over me. What was going on? My heart was beating so hard in my chest it was a wonder it didn't burst out. I started to run, but when I did, the voices just got louder and angrier. They did not get any farther away. Rather, they seemed to be getting closer. Eventually Malik's voice sounded so close, it was as if he were standing right next to me, and yet I could still not make out a word any of them were saying.

The light shining through the fog had turned red, and on top of all the voices I could hear a loud noise reminiscent of the alarm bells that ring every time I kill a target. A cool female voice was repeating the same word over and over again in English, a word I did not recognize.

"Malfunction... Malfunction... Malfunction..."

I screamed. I needed to get out of there. I _had_ to get out of there. I was going to die.

After what seemed like years, I found myself laying down on that machine once more. I sprang to my feet and did a dive roll away, not really noticing that the alarm was still sounding. I sprinted behind the table that Vidic was using. I crouched down and covered my head and there was a loud _bang!_ from behind me. I risked a glance backwards to see that there were shattered machine parts on the floor, and what was left was on fire.


	9. Chapter 9

**Malik's POV:**

He perplexed me. Desmond Miles. Everything about him was downright strange. The way he spoke, they way he moved, the way he interacted with me, everything. Even his accent was bizarre. By the end of his first week in my Bureau I was still trying to figure him out.

However, I found the things he talked about fascinating. I'm pretty sure that he made most of that stuff up just to screw with me (for example, the thing he said about the world being round; that's just ridiculous. It's obviously flat, like a map) but listening to his perspective is interesting. It's also interesting to learn about the things in the near future, such as more crusades and the illness that's going to wipe out most of Europe.

Honestly, when he first appeared in my Bureau, I thought he was mad, as any reasonable person would. However, there were details about things that have already happened that he expressed, and his, shall I say, uncanny resemblance to Altaïr. Of course, Desmond's hair is darker, he was a few inches taller, and his skin tone is a little lighter than the Novice's, but otherwise they look eerily similar. They even have that same scar on the corner of their mouths.

The two couldn't be more different, however. Altaïr is hot headed, Desmond is laid back. Altaïr is arrogant, Desmond is modest. Altaïr is aggressive, Desmond is passive.

He goes out on walks in the mornings. I asked him why, and he says he's looking for something. Of course, the answer was so infuriatingly vague that I tailed him a couple of times, but he never did anything nefarious.

Of course, I could have killed him when he first appeared in my Bureau, or at the very least kicked him out. The Brotherhood was compromised. Desmond knew too much, but the creed also forbids me from taking the life of an innocent, which I could tell he was, in a certain way. So I decided to study him. I have spared his life thus far to see what he knows.

By now Desmond has had several chances to betray us and he hasn't, but I refuse to let my guard down, to be lowered into a false sense of security. I am prepared for an attack, when it comes. I will not be caught unawares.

"Welcome back." I said smoothly in English, as I heard Desmond enter through the back after another one of his morning walks.

"Uhh, thanks." he said, pushing his way into the office area.

I shot a glance back at him, and raised my eyebrows. He was scraped up in a couple of places, and his clothes were torn on his shoulder. There was a cut oozing on his cheek, and he looked embarrassed. Clutched in his right hand was a throwing knife, and in his left there was an apple.

I appraised him, unimpressed. "What did you do?" I said flatly.

"Well, I uh, wanted to practice pickpocketing, so I took a throwing knife from a guard. And then I guess I got cocky to I tried to take an apple, but they caught me, and the guards chased me for a while, and I had to hide." Desmond finished awkwardly.

I stared at him doubtfully. My eyes were drawn to the knife in his hand, which was clean of blood. "You didn't think to actually use the throwing knife in your escape?"

"Well, I... didn't want to kill anyone." Desmond mumbled, clearly embarrassed, looking down at his feet.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. I paced for a moment or so, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation.

"Have you had _any_ pickpocket training?" I groused.

"No." Desmond admitted, "People don't really do that in the present- er, future."

"Whatever. Lets just get you cleaned up." I sighed.

**Lucy's POV:**

"Wake up."

I jerked awake. I was sitting in a chair next to the Animus. My elbow was pressed against the arm of the chair, and my cheek was pressed against my fist. I looked towards the direction from which the voice came to see Altaïr, still wearing Desmond's clothes, staring down at me disapprovingly with his arms crossed over his chest.

He had been here about a week at this point, and I still wasn't any closet to figuring out what went wrong, or how to get Desmond back.

"Oh." I yawned, "Good morning Altaïr."

"How much longer until I get home?" he snapped.

Ever since the incident with the Animus a couple of days ago, when Vidic tried to force him to synchronize with a memory he had not yet experienced, he had been more skittish and even more eager to get home. Honestly, I didn't blame him.

I sat back and rubbed my temples, accidentally knocking over a pile of my notes on the Animus, running my hand over my scalp. I had been searching through any past records that Abstergo had to see if anything like this had ever happened before. Of course, there wasn't. This situation was completely unique.

"I'm sorry, Altaïr, but I don't know." I said quietly, shutting my eyes, my head against the back of the chair.

I heard the assassin curse in Arabic and storm away. I released a sigh through my nose, and a light flashed on the back of my eyelids. I didn't really think anything of it until I noticed that the light seemed to be shifting and moving. I cracked an eye open to find the source of the light, frowning in confusion, my eyes widening. The source of the light was coming from the Animus' monitor.

I gasped and leaped to my feet, heading over to the machine, my mouth still hanging open. I could see Altaïr look up from the other side of the room. Still staring at the screen, I fumbled to press the record button, reaching into my pocket to pull out my cell phone to dial Vidic's number.


	10. Chapter 10

**Altaïr's POV:**

From across the room I heard Lucy gasp. I shot a glance back to see that she was staring open mouthed at that machine. She poked at the buttons on the board on the... screen, did they call it? She then dug around in her pocket to pull out that little black rectangle and began to poke at it.

"Hello? Warren? Come up here, quickly! I think you need to see this!" she said into the thing.

"What has happened?" I asked, moving over to her.

Lucy put the thing away and gestured wordlessly at the screen as I crossed to the other side of the machine, and looked at what the blonde woman was staring at so dumbfoundedly.

On screen was the image of a familiar sight. We were looking at an image of a long, rectangular covered courtyard. There were a couple of rugs on the floor, and a pile of cushions against the wall. A couple of potted plants sat on the sandy floor, and a fountain bubbled cheerfully on the other side of the room, though I could hear no sound. The Bureau. Safety. Home.

There was a man who looked eerily familiar sitting on the cushions, a partially eaten apple in one hand, the shadow of the wooden lattice above falling across his form. He reached up to take a bite of the apple as he played with a throwing knife in his other hand, twirling it around with his fingers. At that point I was beyond surprise that the image was moving. It took me a moment to realize why this man was so eerily familiar; we looked almost exactly the same. I looked at his face, drinking in his features, as I absentmindedly touched the scar on my lips, as he had the same one.

"Is that...?" I started gruffly, trailing off in wonder.

"Yes." Lucy murmured, not looking at me, her eyes still glued to the screen, "That's Desmond."

"This is..." I paused, searching for the right word. "Bizarre."

As the man on the screen, Desmond, I suppose, continued to munch silently on the apple, Doctor Vidic entered the room. He looked irritated as he strode towards us, as if his being called here had interrupted him doing something important.

"What is it, Miss Stillman? This better be important. I can't have you-" he stopped short when he saw the screen.

Now there was another familiar figure coming into view. Malik looked down at Desmond, irritated, and snapped something at him. Desmond looked up, started to say something, but before he could finish the one-armed Dai snatched the throwing knife out of his hand. Desmond rolled his eyes, and Malik scowled down at him.

"I... see." Vidic said faintly, "Is there any way to hear them?"

"I don't know yet." Lucy admitted, "This is the only progress I've made in the last week, as you very well know. I probably can, that's not that difficult..."

Lucy poked around more on the machine, undoubtedly trying to see if she could make sound come out of it as Vidic had requested. I didn't particularly care what they did; instead, I found my eyes glued to the two figures on screen.

Malik was now snapping something else at Desmond, who seemed to sigh as he got to his feet. He dusted off his trousers and took another bite of his apple, before following Malik into the back of the Bureau. The image followed them, and Malik plucked the apple from Desmond's hand, despite his protests. He placed it on a stack of crates in the back of the Bureau before moving back to Desmond, who seemed to be reproachfully asking him a question. Malik opened his mouth to reply, taking a fighting stance, the throwing knife still in his hand.

"There!" Lucy cried.

"-know how to use it."

It was Malik's voice. He was speaking in accented English, but it was undeniably his voice. I never thought I would be so happy to hear it.

On screen, Malik threw the knife at the apple, where it stuck into the core before toppling off of the crate.

"I think... I think the next step is to get in contact with Desmond to make sure that's actually him, and not just an image stimulation created by the Animus." Lucy said, biting her lip.

Vidic scratched his beard. "Fair enough. See what you can get done, Miss Stillman. There may be some hope of salvaging this after all."


	11. Chapter 11

**Desmond's POV:**

I had officially been in ancient Jerusalem for about ten days, and I was just about ready to give up hope of ever getting back to 2012. Still, it had started to become my routine to leave the Bureau every morning, although I seriously doubted I would see anything.

If I was stuck here, and Altaïr was still gone, I wondered how we would explain his disappearance. Maybe Malik could say he died from his injuries, or something? But how would that explain my appearance? Maybe I could pretend to be Altaïr? I doubted that it would work for long, but we look similar, and when I had made an attempt to speak Arabic yesterday, Malik said that I sound like him, right down to the infliction and the emphasis on certain syllables. Then he told me to stop talking because I sounded stupid.

I am just about to head back to the Bureau when I see a beggar woman making a beeline for me. Automatically I turn and make an attempt to leave, but not before I see nucleotides, consistent of the glitches I saw in the Animus, floating around her head.

Giddy excitement washed over me. I moved to the side of the road and allowed the woman to approach me. She moved like a normal beggar woman, dancing around me with her hands clasped in front of her. Her mouth was moving, too, asking me to spare a few coins, but it was like she was on mute, with no sound coming out.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively.

Finally, when she did speak, she spoke with Lucy's voice. "Hello? Desmond? Can you hear me?"

I sighed in relief. I would have broken down right then, if I could. It was so good to hear a familiar voice from my time period. "Lucy, thank God. What's going on? What's happened? Why am I in Jerusalem?"

"The Animus malfunctioned." said the beggar woman carefully.

I scoffed. "I guessed that much. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Well, the Animus messed up and sent you to Jerusalem, the last place Altaïr was, and..." she paused, as if hesitating. "... sent Altaïr here, the last place you were." she finished in a small voice.

The world seemed to fall away from my feet, and my jaw dropped. "Wait, Altaïr's _there!?_ In Abstergo!?"

"Yes." Lucy said.

The beggar woman seemed to shift, before saying in a male voice that sounded somewhat familiar, "You are Desmond?"

"What's been going on there?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing, really." I admitted reluctantly, "I'm just lucky that Malik was nice enough to let me stay in the Bureau."

There was a pause before Altaïr made a snort that, if I didn't know any better, could have been mistaken for amusement. "Malik, nice."

"He's been telling the other assassins that you were injured on your last mission, and that's why you haven't returned to Masyaf."

A growl emanated from the beggar woman. "I'm going to kill him. I'll bet he made me sound weak."

I cracked a smile. "I wouldn't know. I didn't read it. It was in Arabic."

"Nothing's translating?" Lucy asked, interested, "How -?"

"Malik apparently knows English." I said, "Who knew, right?"

Altaïr growled something in Arabic again that neither Lucy nor I could understand. There was a few moments of silence, other than the sounds of the city of Jerusalem around me.

"Desmond, how long have you been there?" Lucy asked.

"Uhh, ten days." I said.

"That's how long Altaïr's been here too." she said, "So that would mean that time here is passing the same way there."

"If you say so." I said, doubt creeping unintentionally into my tone, "How soon do you think you can get me home?"

"I don't know." admitted Lucy, "But we're making progress, so hopefully it will be soon."

"You're in a good mood today." Malik observed when Desmond dropped down into the Bureau.

"I got into contact with Lucy!" I said, still thrilled.

"That woman from the future you mentioned?" asked Malik.

"Yeah, and Altaïr's there too." I added.

Malik raised an eyebrow. "Is he now?" he said with the air of a disapproving parent.

"Yes." I replied boldly, a grin still splitting my features.

I just couldn't quite believe it; I was going to get back were I belonged. I was going to get back to the year 2012.


	12. Chapter 12

**Altaïr's POV:**

"Alright, Altaïr, get onto the Animus." Lucy said, two days later.

"Why?" I demanded apprehensively.

"It's time to send you back home, now." Lucy said, "I just finished calibrating the systems, and-" she broke off, realizing that I did not have a clue what she was saying. She gave a small cough and continued, "Well, it's safe, now, anyways."

I sat down carefully on the cold machine, and I was not surprised this time when the clear thing slid out over my eyes.

"Alright, Desmond, are you ready?" Lucy said into that thing she called a "mykro-phun" that was attached to the screen.

"Aye-aye, captain." came the twenty five year old's voice, somewhat sarcastically, from the screen.

I closed my eyes, and slowly my consciousness slipped away...

I found myself in the blue area once more, the bizarre white fog still surrounding me. I was back in my Master Assassin robes, and I could see someone standing with his back to me, in the distance. Squinting at him, I could see that he was wearing the strange clothes I had been wearing before, when I was in the future.

I approached him quietly and tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. He whipped around to face me before his shoulders relaxed.

"Oh, it's just you." he said.

"I suppose you are Desmond?" I said flatly.

"'fraid so." he joked, sticking out his hand, "Pleased to officially meet you, Altaïr."

I stared at his hand wearily for a moment or so, before shaking it carefully. "I do not suppose you know where we are?"

They chose a random direction and began to walk together, side by side. "If I had to guess, I would say that we're in the Animus' database." Desmond said casually.

The words had no meaning to me, but I was well used to it by then.

"How's Lucy?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Worried about you."

"Wish I could say the same about Malik." said Desmond, pausing before he let out a laugh. "About you, I mean."

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't expect him to be worried. Tensions have been... high between the two of us." I pointed out.

"Tell me about it." Desmond laughed.

I shot him a sideways glance. "Why do you want me to tell you about it?"

Desmond coughed slightly. "It's just an expression."

"If you say so." I said flatly.

We continued to wander aimlessly for a while, neither of us speaking, each lost in our own thoughts.

"How are you two doing?" Lucy asked, her voice booming from the fog. From next to me, Desmond winced at the sudden noise. I stared at him in disapproval.

"A good assassin does not allow himself to get startled." I reprimanded.

"We're fine!" Desmond shouted in reply, ignoring me.

"Alright, well we're almost there." Lucy replied, "Just a few more minutes."

"So, what did you think of the future?" Desmond said casually.

I frowned, wondering why he was so chatty. I consider my options carefully before uttering a single word. "Strange."

Desmond laughed again. "Yeah, I can guess why you would say so.

"Jerusalem was interesting, thanks for asking." he continued after a pause. "It looks so much more vivid in real life than it does in the Animus."

I look at him pointedly, as if to say, "Of course it does. Are you stupid?"

Desmond gives me a wry smile, seeming to realize how stupid he just sounded.

"Alright!" cried Lucy's voice through the fog.

"Well, Altaïr, it was nice to meet-" Desmond began, sticking out his arm once more.

However, before he could finish or either of us could do anything else, the world slipped away from us once more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Altaïr's POV:**

The next thing I knew, I found myself in the Jerusalem Assassin Bureau. For a moment I was dazed; was it real? Was he really back? Or was it all fake?

_It looks real._ I thought, frowning at the walls.

_It looks so much more vivid on real life, than it does in the Animus._ I remembered Desmond's words. Of course, I had no point of reference for what it looked like in side that machine, other than that strange blue and gray landscape I had been in moments before with Desmond.

I hesitated for a moment before calling out. "Malik?"

There was an audible groan from the other room. I resisted a grin before walking into the office area.

Malik, as always, was bent over a map, quill pen in hand, a paper weight sitting on the map's corner. The incense burner was sitting on the edge of the desk, the faint aroma of sandalwood emanating from the smoke spiraling above it.

In spite if myself, I was thrilled. I was home. I was back in 1191. Nothing, not even the unimpressed scowl Malik gave me when he looked up, could dampen my mood.

"Oh, you're back, are you?" Malik said in Arabic, "And I suppose that that Desmond is gone too?"

"He aught to be." I said, still pleased.

"Well, I suppose I can just stick to Arabic then, instead of having to consciously switch to English, every time I have something of importance to say." Malik said flatly, "Even so, I may prefer his company to yours, Novice."

There was a moment of silence. The both of us appraised each other.

"I'm glad you're back." Malik admitted reluctantly, turning back towards his map.

"Me too." I said.

"Now, you aught to get back to Masyaf." Malik snapped, "You are several days over due."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Yes, I know. It wasn't actually my fault, you know."

"Never the less," Malik quipped. "You're over a week late. Al Mualim is expecting you."

"Undoubtedly." I agreed blatantly. I hesitated before adding, "Thank you."

Malik raised his eyebrows. "What's this? You're actually thanking me? For what?"

I frowned and shrugged. "I don't know."

Malik released a sigh through his nose. "Well, why don't you figure it out on your way back to Masyaf?"

"Whatever you say, Malik." I sighed, leaving the office area and clambering out of the Bureau.

**Desmond's POV:**

My eyes were assaulted with light. I blinked several times to find myself staring at too- shiny metal walls and fluorescent lights.

I realized that I seemed to still be reaching out to shake Altaïr's hand, and hastily reached up to rub my eyes.

"Jesus Christ." I muttered, stretching my limbs.

"Desmond!?" came Lucy's voice from somewhere to my left.

I looked over at her to see that she was at her computer, staring at me, open mouthed, like she still couldn't believe I was there. I cracked a grin at her.

"Hey Lucy." I said, still grinning.

She ran forward and threw her arms around my neck. "Desmond, thank God!"

I hesitated before putting my own arms around her.

"Are you okay?" she demanded when we broke apart, looking me up and down.

"I'm fine." I said.

"Ah, so I see you're back." Dr. Vidic said smoothly, stepping into the room.

"What? Really? You don't say?" I rolled my eyes. Vidic frowned as Lucy grinned at me. "Sorry, guess Malik rubbed off on me."

"I expect a full report about what happened." Vidic said, "Both of you." he added to Lucy.

"I'm glad you're back." Lucy said, ignoring him.

"I'm glad to be back." I replied, grinning.


End file.
